I Work in 7 Hours.

I can't be that girl. She's just so...obnoxious.

The girl who raves about her stunning boyfriend who is like, so cool and all the romantic little tidbits about every day happenings. Such as, "He texted me and I wasn't expecting it! How cute is that?!" (not that I would ever get excited about that....[if you knew my boyfriend you'd understand. It's a big deal, okay?])

The girl that can't sleep at night and googles wedding dresses and color coordinated flower bouquets until there is no possible way to get a decent amount of sleep.

Or the girl who sees said boyfriend after two days (two days, people) of limited association and comes up with glorious cheesy gems such as sitting on his lap and asking, "Do you ever get so happy your tummy squirms?"

(Obviously meaning butterflies. I mean, really. Tummy squirm? Butterfly? A dummy would get it.) .... (btw, he smiled and agreed with me once the 'butterflies' part was cleared up).

The point is. I don't want to be her! She's annoying, and naive and a moron airhead. She's every girl I used to sneer at...er, 'sneer' is such an ugly word. More like laughed at.

"Oh, she's so silly. I'll never be that silly. That's just silly."

But guess what.

I am.

Oh, I'm so silly, it's not even funny (except for sometimes we laugh about it). Just look at my Pinterest board. It's ridiculous. Practically the only reason I'm still going to Disneyland single is because;

A) There's still the housing fee. That's $2,000+ that I just don't have to spare.

B) Boyfriend just got the stable job. It'll be nice to let it stabilize first before jumping into a shared life.

C) Um...it's disneyland. Ya don't just say, "Guess what Walt, I changed my mind. See ya round."

But, basically, I've succumbed. Luckily, it's not to that level of disgusting, puke-worthy mushy gushy lovey dovey nauseous circle of love that is just a whole lot of PDAwkward for everyone around (that awesome term courtesy of Katie ;]).

Love does stuff to ya. It gives you butterflies and makes your mind fuzzy. You can't seem to smile and breathe at the same time but you don't really need to...breathe, that is.

Oh, and I love making plans :) Plans are my favorite. Plans and surprises. Surprises that I know I'll totally forget about until they begin unfolding. Plans and surprises I'm not even sure it's really legal to have them this early on...

(I'm still about 6-7 months out of being possibly engaged, am I allowed to know that we could potentially be flying somewhere for the honeymoon? o.O)

I've been trying to leave myself a door open. The plan-B emergency door that I can bow out of when things possibly could ever go wrong and the relationship doesn't work out. But at this point, the pathway to the plan-B emergency door is getting much longer and exceedingly more paved with if's and maybe's. It's more like that painting you keep up on the wall because it takes up the empty space and doesn't leave you vulnerable to ridicule from your more interior design savvy friends. You don't actually need the painting, or even like it for that matter, but it's there. Like insurance.

The door's almost disappeared. I'm about to take it down and throw paint on the walls. Create an entire new experience in the room, change the appearance of everything I'm used to. How can I possibly be ready to admit I have found the person I could deal with for eternity. E-ter-ni-ty. Do you realize how long that is? Do I realize how long that is?

Here's the crazy thing: I think I do. And as I think about it I wait for the panic to set in. The qualms and queasy feelings of uneasiness that'll sway me from being certain. But I don't need the door anymore. I don't want the door. The painting can go to DI and the door can melt away into oblivion because I'm in love.

Sure, steady, pure love.

It's cheesy. It's romantic. And it's all mine :) I feel like Buddy the Elf and wanna go running through the halls filled with stuck-up, more-sophisticated-people-than-I snobjobs and shout to them, "I'm in love! I'm in love! and I don't care who knows it!" with that idiotic sappy grin on my face. Because that means I'm too happy to care.

So go ahead and judge! Because Happiness?

I has it :)

AYO. Baby Lego's

Eggs.

They are complicated.

The pressure of making scrambled eggs is like deactivating a nuclear bomb under a time limit (I seem to be very good at coming up with simile's that I'm totally unqualified to make). I don't actually know how to deactivate a bomb or what goes into the process of deactivating a bomb. But that's what I feel like when I pour that slimy egg puddle onto the sizzling pan. I stress out.

"They're just eggs!"

Yeah! But someone's gonna eat those eggs! And if they taste terrible it's my fault. And I'm a pathological people pleaser.

So when that does happen it kind of scars me and permanently puts the situation in the "Don't ever try again box".

Boxes vs. Wires? Go here. I'm pretty sure I was born with a boy-brain. Just sayin'.

Anyway. I made eggs once. Scrap that. I tried to make eggs once. 'Once' being the first time I've ever tried. Boyfriend had been trying to get me to do it for weeks, because I was too scared to try. That day, the day I did try, had been terrible. I was honry, I was frustrated, I was tired and I was in no mood to be messed with. So I tried to make eggs.

I failed.

Miserably.

I made breakfast sponge burritos.

I'm pretty sure they made boyfriend sick later, but he was more than supportive about it. In fact, he made me do them again (like, a month later). Luckily I was in a better mood but I still refused to spice them myself. He had to do that part.

We all need people like that. The ones who force us to do what we convince ourselves we're unable to achieve. Someone to throw our stubborn little pessimistic butts back up on that dumb horse and try again. I know eventually I'll be the master at cooking scrambled eggs and he (or whoever 'he' ends up being) is gonna get sick of them and finally command me to stop making such mouth-watering, fabulous scrambled eggs. But it'll be because of him.

I like to think I'm a strong person. At times I am, I can be very strong. Ironically, it's the little things that slip under the radar that need that other push, the outside force to make it happen. I haven't really known that till now. All the small things about myself I thought I had under control were really just floating along in mediocre average mode. I'm nowhere near the marvelous human being I could be but he's helping me get there.

With scrambled eggs.

It's the little things.

Be grateful for the little things. Try to be grateful. Remind yourself to be grateful. Don't throw yourself into thanking God for every little moment, in the moment. There's a whole lot of truth to baby steps. We're not built for leaps and bounds. If you can, I'll betcha there's also a whole lot of mess along the way. Life's one big mess anyway, why not take a moment and do your best? Don't settle. Be your best. Your best, not the best.

That's what I have to say about it, anyway.

Eggs suck.

There's a pun in there somewhere.

34 days till HP:DH part 2. We so exciiited, we so exciiited!! :D <3

Why You Must Like Me So??

There's a new purpose to this blog now, and I apologize for the immense sappy-ness of it. But here's the basic schedule rundown betwixt boyfriend and me:

Hope--works whenever Walmart declares it (so basically, sold my soul for $7.50/hr)

Boyfriend--...pretty consistently now at 9 PM to 6 AM...which means he sleeps till about 3 in the afternoon which also happens to be either in the middle or very near the beginning of my shifts.

Oh boo.

The only one that works out semi-nicely is when I work 7 am-3 pm and then there's about 5-6 hours we can hang out (oh, plus he doesn't work Mondays and Tuesdays....thank the Lord) but at the same time I didn't even get up at 7 to go to school so by 3 I'm the one that's exhausted but he just woke up and it's a big mess of not even being in the same time zone really. It might as well be that. I'm dating someone who lives on Germany time or something (to those of you in Germany, hi! I'm probably getting that all wrong and I apologize for that too. Just go with it).

So it's weird.

And it means I don't get to talk to him much.

Which means I'm gonna be on here a lot more often!! yay! Be excited with me...

Or don't.

You choose.

In other words, I'm bored and really want to talk to someone but I have nothing to talk about so I'll just ramble on here instead for your pleasure and enjoyment (or just a boredom-fix. That's cool too).

I mentioned the Walmart Nerds in my last post so now I'll talk about them a little bit. Firstly, I'd like to start off by saying they're all wonderful, great guys and I'm glad for the friendship but there are just a couple things they've done that are a little on the "/facepalm. That was awkward" side and I believe they are worth noting on here :)

#1: Quiet Cashier Guy- This dude is really sweet. Smiles all the time and always has a peaceful, content demeanor. He also will not allow me to pass by without saying 'hi' and asking how I'm doing. Which would be fine if it wasn't such a demanding scenario. I feel like if I don't acknowledge him I just might get a sneak attack football tackle so that I have to talk to him. I'm really not exaggerating.

#2: Baseball Cap Dude- Lissen, fellah. When I'm on break, I have 15 minutes to recooperate so I can stand around and deal with people for another couple hours. I want to close my eyes and meditate. Not listen to you explain which superhero movie is a complete flop and why.

#3: [Stock]er- (ps that was a clever pun for "stalker"...just fyi) When you always seem to appear wherever I am when I'm working, ask me what my weekly schedule is in great detail and also reveal the fact that you tried to "catch" me at lunch break but was apparently too late I begin to back away slowly and hope I can make a break for it. Seriously dude, calm down. Also? You come around to gather the garbage. I really don't think that's the appropriate time to begin a life-story conversation. Just sayin'.

#4: Too Desperate for Words- Alright. Um, I watched your bike for you. That doesn't mean we can date.

He came into the store to go to the backroom for something he forgot (I'm not even really sure what position he is, but apparently we've spoken before..../awkward). He locked up his bike and leaned it against the wall behind where I stand for greeting. When he got back he couldn't find his keys and almost got really panicky which made me a little scared. He started to walk away to go find them and I caught a glimpse of them swinging on his belt loop (to tell, or not to tell?). I stopped him and pointed them out asking, "Are those the keys?" He stops and looks down and kind of freezes then looks at me and shoots off into declaring how awkward and stupid that was of him and I'm trying to console him cuz it wasn't that big of a deal. He unlocks his bike, pulls it around and is just about to leave but turns around again and the following conversation took place...

TDW: Can I ask you a question?

Me: [guh, no you can't] Yeah, sure!

TDW: Well, I think I already know the answer....

Me: [Don't do it kid, don't do it] -weak laughter-

TDW: Are you single?

Me: [oh boyfriend, I could kiss you!] No, I'm not. -apologetic look-

He then proceeded to lament about how everyone else in this big wide open world is in a relationship but him and how he'll neeeeeever get a girl and all of a sudden I'm in charge of stroking this random mostly-stranger's ego out of the puddled slump it's in.

Confidence, my man. It's a beautiful thing.

Just because it's funny, not even 2 minutes after that most interesting exchange a customer was walking out. I'd greeted him when he came in earlier and he's a decently attractive fellow, around my age. Very punk-rockerish without the gothic emo side where you hope they won't whip out a gun and shoot every living thing in sight. I give the usual robotic reply in the best happy voice I can muster,

"Thank you! Have a good night!"

He glances over his shoulder to return the sentiment but sees me and stops. Turns around. Looks befuddled and says, "Are you always a door greeter?" I figured he was a regular or something and didn't recognize me so I replied, "Yes, that's my position. But I am new here so..." he shakes his head and cuts in, "No, I mean the greeters are always old. You're not old. You're cute."

And then leaves.

Really?? Seriously right now?! I cannot account for the sudden stream of attention because I can promise you, it was not one of my best days on the actually-getting-ready-for-the-day scale.

But anyway. It would be nice if I could make guyfriends and skip the part where they think I'm their soulmate.

Really. T'would be just loverly.

I appreciate the attention.....but I have nothing to do with it.

So meh.

:P

Alright Universe, you have now crossed a line that...should not have been crossed!

/waggles finger at Universe

.....

/pointer finger

Srsly though. Facebook is really quite insensitive when it comes to dropping little information atomic bombs on your delicate and blissfully ignorant psyche. There's a girl I know getting married. Big deal, whoop whoop, who ISN'T nowadays??

No, you don't understand. She was a Beehive when I was a Laurel. If that makes no sense to you, basically I'm like Mushu and Mulan is dashing off to save China. Problem is, she's a girl I knew in Utah and since I moved down to Arizona very soon after that Beehive:Laurel ratio was in place she is still that cute little innocent girl in my mind. And she's getting married.

She's gonna go off into the world and start her dependent life! She's gonna have s-e-x. She's gonna do all these great and wonderful things and and and...

Why do I feel like an old maid??

Honestly. I am stoked that I made it this long without getting hitched. I'm tickled pink ('cept not pink cuz that's an atrocious color) that my life turned out this way. That I get to really "grow up" without a permanent attachment to my character. Because I know me and I know that once I'm married my husband will be as much a part of me as I am me now. I love that I've had some college as a semi-sorta-single young woman ("single" meaning "not Mrs."). I could not be more excited for this up and coming fall semester where I'll be traveling off to Anaheim, California to live away from every person I know, live in an apartment with complete strangers and work for my way in life. Single...-ish.

(Speaking of Cali, though, I got my new address and insurance information in an email today. An address. Where I'll be living. 1.5 miles away from the Disneyland Park. One point five.)

I mean no one is being fooled here, the whole NOT being in a relationship with boyfriend whilst I'm in another state plan is totally not going down. At all. It has about as much of a success-rate as me bearing a baby panda in the next month....I'd need at least a few months. We were going to try "breaking up", which sounds really harsh but really in just a mellow way of not being boyfriend and girlfriend.

It's totally lame and not gonna happen. He's making me get skype for heavens' sake.

Room-mate: "So you got a boyfriend, Hope?"

Me: "Uhhh...nope. No. Single! Wooh."

Rm:" Oh? Then, uhm, who's that guy you skype with every day all the time constantly?"

Me: "....he's my sassy gay friend. No you can't read our conversations."

Skype's chatting right? I don't even know, it's sad. I think there's audio involved. I dunno. It's high-tech and totally beyond my intelligence radar. Not even close. Dark space is where it is. Not really, but you get the idea.

Basically, all that will really happen is...I'll move away and we won't kiss anymore. Yup. Oh, and I'll flirt heinously with every straight man in sight (soooo, in other words, I move away and no kissing).

Moving on! Despite being completely happy with my relationship status I still swoon and sigh and revisit each and every wedding photo album that comes up on my News Feed every day for at least a couple weeks or so. Months if it's actually someone I like (such as the wonderful Allie, you'll love her I promise ;]).

I do so dearly want to get married...eventually. I want to nod off in bed while someone (not that I have any clue as to who...) jabbers on and on about the next dorky computer thing he figured out. I want to slip out of bed quietly in the morning and make eggs because I CAN AND I WILL SUCCEED!! (eggs are my achilles heel. another story for another time.) plus bacon and pancakes and all sorts of yumminess. I want to make a trail of post-it notes from the front door, across the floor, up on the walls and ceiling to the bedroom with little messages on them for when he gets home from work. I want to death-glare him into doing the dishes and putting laundry where it's supposed to go.

I want to be a half of a whole.

But I am content in just being my own sorta-whole for now.

........she's just my beehive!! x[

it's weird.

Don't judge me.

In other news, my wrist is stupid and isn't helping me ward off the desperate Walmart nerds who seem to think my smiling at their pun means we're destined for children who play WoW and eat cheezburgers. Not that there's anything wrong with WoW or cheezburgers. I'd just like a say in my projected futures...

But that'll be a rant for another time :)

Hasta la pasta!!

Angst Stanks

Yup. It's been one of those days.

The ones where you sit on the shower floor, let the water run to cold and just simply stare at your hands in front of you because they're kind of the only thing you can find to appreciate about yourself (in that moment...or day). I've got pretty nice hands. Can't quite vouch for the rest of me at this point.

I was late to work today. Yes, you're right. It is only my second week. Let this serve as the basis of how idiotic I am (also, tis a good thing boyfriend doesn't read this blog [which is fine by me, btw, for all you girls gasping,"oh that's terrible! how insensitive!" right now] cuz he would not be pleased with me...)

Complete honesty blurb: Okay, so it was one of those simple human mistakes where you have the alarm set but somehow life decides you're going to sleep through it and you have no choice whatsoever and you'll wake up at 7:10 when you should be waving and saying "Hi! Welcome to Walmart! I'm 'killing you with kindness' today and you're gonna like it!" oh, about 10 minutes ago. Not to mention clocking in 15 minutes late is technically a 'tardy' so if ya think about it, by the time I clocked in at 7:24 I was really only 9 minutes actually late...which is still a problem, I know.

No one said anything, I did a really good job today and lots of work for being a door-greeter. I ended up running all the odd-job-scurry-around-the-entire-facility stuffs. Twas great. I know I'll hear about it later when they review my times or whatever but the point is MY LIFE WILL NOT END.

I personally think you hafta really try to get fired from Walmart. It's like failing PE. It just doesn't happen unless it's the only option left. My dad however, he is of a differing opinion. I'm pretty sure he was expecting me to drive back home 10 minutes after I left, jobless, the way he was going on about it.

And now backstory! huzzah.

I had a job once. Kinda. $30 an hour. Psh! Yeah right! No, really (and there were no street corners involved). 30 smackaroons a freaking hour...course, my hours were about 10 or less a week. I was the official accompanist for a vocal class at MCC (well, 2 vocal classes), so I did a lot of sight-reading. In fact, that's all I did. I enjoyed it fairly well, except for the fact that my boss was Ursula.

I'm not even kidding you right now.

Ur-su-la. The sea witch. And she was indeed a witch. Genius lady, knew her stuff and could whip anybody into a true performer but as many of you know I'm a bit of a screwup and she didn't really abide those much.

And so! Winter came along, the end of the semester, I was overbooking myself and falling apart, two different events conflicted--a concert and a rehearsal for a concert--so I chose the concert. Which was not what Ursula wanted (she demanded I be there for the rehearsal). But I was an essential part of this choral concert that I could not back out of and in my mind, I really had no choice.

I could have easily avoided the situation if I had just paid attention to my schedule and used my brain like a normal person but past is past and that was a big slip-up in my life, costing me a very good job and a very good reference.

My dad will not. let. it. go.

It comes up all the time. Constantly.

I love my father but it would be nice if he understood how much it pains me to think about that entire shpiel. I do not regret the choice I made. I would still choose the concert where I wouldn't see a dime but perform with people I love and respect. If I could do it over I would manage my calendar better.

And so now, with this job, he's just waiting for me to fail. Again. And I'm just all too ready to give the man what he apparently wants....apparently.

Also, people are dumb. Holy cow. Frustrating yet entertaining beyond belief.

Case A: If you are a person who needs an electric cart for whatever reason, I won't judge you. If I could get away with it, I'd snag one every time I went shopping whether I could live without it or not. BUT. If you are that person that goes barreling on out the doors while I (the greeter) politely yell at you to stop, that we "can't allow the carts into the parking lot", putt-putts your way on out to your car and then leaves the stupid cart, with the leather seat, the leather seat that has to be sat on for the contraption to work, out in the blazing arizona heat and then I gotta go track it down and burn my butt riding it in...

I HATE CHOOOOO.

Case B: Ma'am, I'm more than happy to help you find that dandruff shampoo you love that apparently isn't on the shelf and apparently doesn't have a sticker on the shelf (um, hello McFly?) but you gotta understand when I say, "Would you like me to go to the back room and ask someone if we have it in stock?" and you say Yes that involves me trekking to the back of the store and finding someone. You're in Health and Beauty. Practically kitty-corner. So when I engage in this wild goose chase for someone who knows more than I do, bring them to come help you and you've disappeared because you were too impatient, angry and bitter at life all I'm gonna do is laugh.

Case C: Alrighty. Thank you for snapping at me but might I just point something out. Take a second and glance around the store from where you're standing. That's a lot of crap, right? You can't even see 3 of the other 5 sections? Mkay, well then you will excuse me when I don't know exactly what shelf the diapers are on. Or this "black soap" of which you speak.

i don' knoooooow. i juss smile and say hi all day.

And of course the dear women who come in under the impression that they can compensate for all the "let-go" goin' on with eye make-up. Excuse me for staring, I was trying to understand the McDonald's arches on your forehead and why they were black....oh! Eyebrows? Uh, of course!

Basically, Walmart is about the best training I could ever have for going to Disneyland in the fall because I'm sure that all the weird-ies I encounter here will be no match for the strangeness that is to come. Lord give me strength.

I have an assignment for you: Think of 5 things that made you laugh or smile today. Can't think of 'em? Then you've got some work to do. Get to it! :)